


Don't ask me I'll never tell

by symphorine



Category: Leverage
Genre: Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Multi, Post-Canon, hardison tries out some nicknames on eliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 19:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17127167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphorine/pseuds/symphorine
Summary: Eliot reacts strangely to a mark during a job - Parker and Hardison worry about his comfort level.Turns out things... are fine.





	Don't ask me I'll never tell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Melime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melime/gifts).



> title sounds dramatic but really it's just one of the starting lyrics of Call Me Maybe (which was my first title choice)
> 
> hi melime im you're gifter for the exchange!! i really hope you like this fic, let me know when you read it :>

Hardison sets down his bottle of orange soda and quickly checks that all com feeds are up. Eliot is right there, mingling before he gets to the mark. He's frowning in between people, because of course he is, Hardison really wishes the man used his other facial expressions a little more when he wasn't actively conning.

"Heads up, he's coming towards you," he warns, straightening up in his chair.

 _"I see him,"_ Eliot replies.

 _"Go slow,"_ Parker says. She's in the mark's office, two floors above, digging through his files and ready to enact at least six contingency plans, if Hardison knows her at all. _"We're just doing first contact."_

Eliot doesn't reply; the man is upon him, and he's greeting him. Mr Johnson is an elected official, and an arms dealer in his spare time, who covered up a deal gone wrong and the death of several innocent people, including the client's brother - Hardison is more than happy to take this one down.

 _"...enjoying the party?"_ Johnson asks.

Hardison grimaces at his screen. " _You_ enjoy it while you can."

 _"Yes I am,"_ Eliot says, easy grin on his face. Damn him, he can be so charming. _"I haven't been to a lot of these recently, but yours has been quite pleasant."_

"Quite pleasant?" Hardison smiles. "How polite of you, Eliot."

He sees the twitch in Eliot's smile that let him know he heard, and grins.

 _"Hardison, I've got all his computer files. Transferring now,"_ Parker says. She also sounds amused. Eliot's been doing some work with Sophie to try and get better at playing a larger panel of personas. This one is new enough that it's still funny to them.

 _"...life getting in the way. You know how things can be."_ Eliot is still going, rolling his champagne flute between his fingertips. _"But I shouldn't keep you from your other guests."_

Johnson sizes him up, and for a second Hardison is worried that Eliot's been made, somehow, but then the man smiles.

 _"Sadly you're right, I have other people to entertain, but..."_ He slips his hand into his jacket and takes out a card that he hands to Eliot. _"Here is my number, should you wish to talk business."_ He pauses, his eyes lingering over Eliot's face. _"Or simply chat more."_

 _"...oh."_ Eliot recovers quite fast, even with Hardison snorting in the com. _"It'd be my pleasure."_

Johnson winks - he fucking _winks_ , this is so much - and goes off, leaving Eliot alone with his champagne and a sudden scowl again. _"Dammit Hardison, this is not funny. Why didn't you tell me he'd hit on me, huh?"_

"Didn't know, man. You should be flattered," he teases. "The man has expensive taste."

 _"Expensive my ass."_ Ah, there is Eliot again. _"This is supposed to be Sophie's thing, not mine."_

"You handled it magnificently, and yes, do not worry my dear, your ass _does_ look expensive."

Eliot pinches the bridge of his nose, but not before Hardison can catch his reddening cheeks over the security cameras. Of course it could just be because Eliot's getting angry, but Hardison's been experimenting with pet names. Eliot is very, very sensitive to those.

 _"I'm coming back,"_ Eliot mutters.

"Good," Parker says, right from behind Hardison. She doesn't seem very concerned when he almost jumps out of his chair. "Then we can go home and look at the files."

"Parker babe, please don't spook me like that."

She just smiles at him, and suddenly, Hardison suspects she might have done it on purpose.

They don't have to wait very long for Eliot to get back. Hardison had expected to get told off over pet names, or about not warning Eliot the mark could be interested in men (and more specifically him, but who _wouldn't_ be into Eliot if they leaned that way?). But it doesn't come up. Parker and Eliot look at pictures she’d taken of a notebook hidden away in a desk, trying to decode the text on it, and Hardison drives them home in relative silence.

He goes to work on the computer files as soon as they get back. Home is still the brewpub, ever changing and improving, or so he likes to think. He settles upstairs, in front of the screens, and sets his softwares and programs to work while taking a look at what the computers can't handle.

Parker joins him about an hour in. She sits next to him and steals a screen spot, displaying the view from the camera in the kitchen. Eliot is there, working with the actual employees. As far as Hardison can tell, this is one of the things Eliot genuinely enjoys. He doesn't look less grumpy - would it kill him to smile more? - but he seems relaxed, more focused on teaching the other cooks than looking out for threats. Hardison guesses that the availability of dozens of knives in very close proximity also helps Eliot feel comfortable.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

Parker hums. "I don't know. We might need to discuss stuff."

"Like what happened with Johnson?" It's not very hard to figure out.

She nods. "Yeah. I don't think he liked it. I don't want us to use that if he's uncomfortable."

Hardison abandons the files to turn towards Parker. "I thought he sounded more surprised than uncomfortable."

"I don't know," Parker repeats with a frown. "He flirts with women a lot more than with men. I don't think he's been on a date with a man besides you since we've known him. I just... think we should talk before he calls Johnson back."

Hardison can see her point. He's not even sure what they've done with Eliot counts as dates; it's not like they've sat down and defined this whole relationship. They should, at some point; probably not yet. "Yeah, alright."

Parker nods again, more decisively this time, and she leaves his side to go lie on the sofa, brushing against him on her way. She looks relaxed, curled up there with a notebook and a pen, probably planning more for the con - although she could be doing anything, really. It reminds Hardison of how Eliot looks in that kitchen - at ease, like they know they're safe for now, like they can indulge in some time of not being alert.

It makes something in his heart bloom with warmth, and he goes back to work with a smile.

* * *

 

When Eliot comes back, it's almost night. Hardison resists the temptation to scrutinize him. Parker's gone somewhere else, he's not sure where, and he doesn't want to start this conversation without her. There's something intimidating about it, that he hadn't thought about at all earlier, when Eliot was playing young naïve entrepreneur at that party. It feels all the more delicate because this is about Eliot. They've all gotten better at communicating, about emotions and feelings; it's not perfect yet, but they're doing better. This is different; this is personal, about history and past and self, and Hardison is not sure how to approach it. So he'd rather have Parker here too, so he doesn't have to handle it alone.

"Have you got anything yet?" Eliot asks, nodding towards the screens full of running software and displayed documents.

"Financials look clean," Hardison says, turning to face Eliot. "Well, he's got a secret account, but nothing we can use directly. Got some stuff on connections, maybe, but it'll take a while."

Eliot frowns. "Anything I can ask him about?"

Ah, well.

Hardison coughs. "Uh, yeah. About that."

"What?"

"I mean, we should wait for Parker, but we think there's something we need to talk about."

“Hardison.” Eliot’s tone suggests he’d like to know what this is about _right now_.

“I mean it, man, this shouldn’t be a one-on-one conversation, it could get a bit touchy, I don’t know, and -”

Hardison is saved from having to ramble too long by Parker’s timely reapparition. It’s like she has a sixth sense for it, he swears. That or Nate gave her pointers on dramatic timing before he and Sophie went on their vacation-slash-honeymoon-slash-time-away-from-crime (at least until they miss it too much).

“Hey”, Parker says, hopping on the chair on Eliot’s other side.

He scowls and turns toward her. “Hardison said you wanted to talk about something?”

“Oh. Yeah. You sounded uncomfortable when Johnson hit on you.” She pauses for a second, then settles on, “Were you?”

Eliot shifts, but his face loses some of its severity. “I wasn’t.” Parker waits, staring at him still, and Eliot opens and closes his mouth a couple of times. “I’m just rusty at it,” he mumbles.

“Rusty at flirting?”

Eliot glares at him. “With… guys.”

“You didn’t seduce me through sheer beauty and your sunshine personality,” Hardison points out dryly. “There’s been a fair amount of flirting involved, man.”

The corner of Eliot’s mouth quirks up for a second at _seduce_. “Yeah well, this guy ain’t exactly like you, is he? Smoother, for one, and older -”

“Not nice to play on my insecurities like that, Eliot,” Hardison protests, putting his hand over his heart. “I’m hurt, nay, _wounded_ -”

“So it’s all fine then?” Parker asks.

Eliot shrugs. “Yeah, s’fine.”

Parker glances at Hardison, and Eliot follows, and suddenly, Hardison is the target of two very intense stares.

“I mean, if you’re okay doing this, then yeah, we’re fine. We can practice some if you want,” he adds, waggling his eyebrows.

Eliot rolls his eyes.

* * *

 

It _is_ fine, in the end. Hardison isn’t all that surprised, he’s known Eliot long enough to know the man is ridiculously skilled at pretty much everything. It’s still a relief when he hears Eliot easily charm the mark while he and Parker are busy breaking out of a warehouse full of illegal weapons. Especially because they’re very much in the open right now, and Eliot is with the mark in the very same building, and Johnson offered to show him their security, and now if Johnson turns around he will see them on his _damned closed-circuit cameras_ _too old to hack_. Who _doesn’t_ upgrade their security system? Who doesn’t upgrade their security system around their _highly illegal goods?_

“Almost there,” Parker whispers into the coms. “Are we out of sight?”

Eliot coughs. _“Well, isn’t there a way to go a little further?”_

_“A little further? Like what? The mob doesn’t like negotiations.”_

_“Well...”_

“Dammit,” Parker swears. “Hold on, we’re almost out.”

They have to duck down and hide behind crates, waiting for a guard to pass them. The whole place is a maze of stacked crates; if Hardison lost Parker, he’d err in there until he died.

“I see the exit.” Parker points at a wall on their left. “But there’s two guards. No way we get past them.”

Hardison sighs. “I see.”

Parker’s eyes are sparkling. “You have to ask.”

“Really?”

“ _Hardison_ , you have to _say it_.”

Hardison relents. “Are there any air ducts?”

“ _Yes._ ”

Parker knows exactly where the air ducts are, and Hardison is happy that she’s so excited about them, but man, he sure wishes those guards had decided to go take a walk.

“I remember the blueprints, we’re gonna have to go through the ducts above the cameras room,” Parker explains as she makes quick work of a grate at the entrance of the ducts. “You’ll have to distract him or get him away.”

 _“How am I supposed to do that?”_ Eliot’s voice was barely high enough to get picked up by the com. _“I’m running out of things to talk about here!”_

“Ask him to show you his merchandise?” Hardison climbs in after Parker and they start crawling. “He likes you, he might agree. Come on, sweetpea, you’ll do fine.”

_“Fine.”_

Parker is incredibly fast and nimble, but Hardison keeps banging his elbows, knees and head on hard surface, which makes the journey a fairly unpleasant experience. He also tries not to think about dust mites too much. “Are we close?” he whispers after what seems like an eternity of future bruises, hoping his voice doesn’t echo along the shaft.

“Almost there,” Parker replies. “Eliot, now.”

_“I know you’re more than you pretend to be.”_

Johnson’s voice cuts into the coms, which means he’s very close to Eliot now. Hardison swears under his breath.

_“Excuse me?”_

He and Parker reach the space right above the cameras room, getting a clearer view of things. Eliot is standing his ground, trying to stall, and Johnson is not threatening him with any weapon, to Hardison’s relief. Of course he’d most likely never be able to touch Eliot anyway - but still.

“Eliot, stay in character,” Parker hisses.

From their vantage point, Hardison can see his surprise, but he recovers fast. “An agent?”

“I don’t know _which_ of my clients sent you,” Johnson continues, “but I have many ways to make you tell me. I can offer you money, most likely more than you’re paid in a year.”

Before Hardison can roll his eyes, Parker opens the grate and hands it to him, then drops silently behind their mark, taser in hand.

“I don’t think I’ll tell you anything,” Eliot replies.

“Oh, you-” Johnson’s words end in incomprehensible garble, and he falls to the ground. Neither Parker nor Eliot makes a move to soften the fall, watching him drop like a potato sack, and Hardison snorts.

“I can’t believe _you_ get to tase him,” Eliot grumbles.

“He’d have known he was wrong if you’d hit him. That way, he’s kept in the dark.”

“I guess.” Something like regret passes on Eliot’s face, but by the time Hardison has reached the ground safely, it’s gone.

Parker shakes her head. “Alright. We should leave.”

“Back in there?” Hardison asks, pointing up.

“I don’t think so, it’d be a tight fit for Eliot. But…” Parker’s eyes are sparkling again. “We could run.”

Hardison looks at Eliot, who seems just as confused. “Run?”

“Yeah. There’s a direct way from here to a side exit, and guard rotation in…” Parker glances at the timestamp on the security feeds. “A minute gives us a thirty seconds window to go through there.”

They’re silent for a moment. “We shouldn’t,” Hardison says.

“It’s unprofessional.”

“And dangerous.”

“Hardison can’t sprint.”

“You don’t know that! At least my big muscles aren’t too large for air ducts!”

“That’s cause you don’t get muscles by typing on keyboards!”

Hardison raises his eyebrows and turns back to Parker. “All right, we’ll run, and I’m getting there before him.”

Parker grins and pushes the door open, glancing in the hallway before looking back at the timestamp.

“And in four… three… two… go!”

Hardison pushes past Eliot and runs as fast as he can, but Parker outruns them both, zipping ahead and getting to the door a clear first.

Hardison would _definitely_ have gotten there second, if Eliot hadn’t been trying to drag him back by his shirt.

Parker makes quick work of the door’s lock, and they get out just when they hear the voice of alarmed men getting closer. The door shuts with a soft click and they’re outside, alone except for the couple of birds on the roof above them.

“Shit, that was _something_.”

“Right?” Parker is beaming.

Eliot laughs. “There were other ways out, right?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Cool.” He takes a deep breathe. “We shouldn’t stay here.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go get Lucille.”

* * *

 

Parker’s laugh as she drives them away is exhilarating. Hardison can’t help but grin and shake Eliot’s shoulder, and he’d kiss them both if he could - but Parker’s driving is _adventurous_ at best and he’s rather not finish the day with a concussion or a broken tooth.

“God, that felt _good_ ,” he says instead.

“I know!” Parker’s smile is blinding. “I love taking down bad guys.”

“And tazing them.”

“That, too,” she agrees. “Feels like he deserved worse though.”

Eliot snorts. “He’ll get that soon too. Feds won’t be happy with him.”

Parker whoops and stops at a red light. She shakes her head, sending her hair in every direction, and looks like she’s ready to vibrate out of her skin with excitation.

“I need to do something. Anyone else wants to go do some jumping?” she asks - and Hardison is very endeared by the fact that she always does, even if he almost always refuses, and Eliot isn’t much better.

“Actually,” Eliot says, then stops.

That gets him their full attention. The light turns green and Parker has to look back at the road, but she looks at Eliot every few seconds.

“Actually?” Hardison prompts.

“Thought I might take you guys some place.” Eliot’s voice is a bit rough, and he’s looking at Parker’s hands on the wheel, not at either of them.

They exchange a glance. “Like where?”

“New fancy restaurant downtown. I’ve been meaning to try it.”

“What kind of food is it?” Parker asks, because she still does not care much about food, but Eliot does.

“Seafood.” Eliot crosses his arms and leans back. “The chef is a guy I know.”

Parker shrugs. “Okay, sure. Wait, do we need to be all formal?”

“If you want. They’re not gonna turn us out at the door either way,” Eliot says.

They drive in silence for a moment.”

“Oh my god. You’re taking us on a proper date, aren’t you.” Hardison feels all warm and weird.

Eliot narrows his eyes and tries to protest. “It’s not- we’ve been on dates before- and what do you mean, _proper_ -”

“So you are, then?”

Eliot crosses his arms tighter. “Yes.”

Hardison feels like he should be teasing him here, but he doesn’t really want to. “Nice. Why now, though?”

Eliot doesn’t reply right away, but that’s fine. Hardison is used to waiting his partners out, letting them choose their words, what they want to share and what they want to keep. He lets his hand rest on Eliot’s shoulder, where it’s been since they climbed in the van, but doesn’t press him.

“I was just… reminded of stuff today.” Eliot looks tense, his jaw clenched tight, but his eyes are soft, his usual frown gone. “Interacting with Johnson.”

Hardison lets a beat pass. “Like what?”

Eliot shrugs. “Other… stuff. People.”

Hardison is curious, and he knows Parker is too, but they know better than to pry. It’s not very important, anyway, nothings that needs to be told right now, maybe not ever.

“If this kind of job makes you go all romantic, I’m gonna have to start selecting clients better. What did it for you? The flirting with the mark? The arm dealing? The lack of punching?”

“Hardison, I _swear_ -”


End file.
